amy d. moonroot. aspiring witchlawyer.

turns out a few of my babeliest rag tag friends will be there for me and my dad today in court.

came home from a farm after weeding corn and tomatoes and saying goodbye to almost everyone and then driving hours and hours with a new friend also saw a shooting star while we both made the same wish at once and swam in a warm lake

everything in the house is clean in that sterile way and all my wildflowers and plants have been hacked up i need to take a nap before i start freaking out. need sleep before i see my dad get sentenced. must not think about dead wildflowers. ok bye

I think I’m mostly just pissed that I’m not in love with anyone. There are tons of awesome people around, but I know I’m just passing through.

I know it’s crazy to expect most people in baltimore to drop everything and do something totally boring and inconvenient like come to my dad’s sentencing, but I think it’s kind of crazy and disappointing how many people are too busy being activists about the same shit to do anything real like this when it comes up. Like…sure, you’re too busy to respond, but please invite me to speak at red emmas if i write a book about it. fucking lame. 

I know there is some valid response here about expectations and how I’ve been in an academic/social hole for a while so it’s cool that people have forgotten about me or something, and maybe it will get better soon. i hope.

"Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on."

Immigrants. First generation.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo.

(via floranymph)

Ugh I’m tearing up at my desk.

(via salviprince)

having to be back in baltimore for my dad’s sentencing is fucked up

I don’t usually take pictures of food but this is for my own memory of tender chicken soup with yuca at tropical taste, an amazing dominican restaurant in Chicago.
at Tobey’s in chicago, there is a red light in the corner of the room. full of wonder for the big city.
sleeping situation last night, on the floor of a friend of a friend’s studio room in carbondale, IL. It was a block away from the longest running punk house which opened it’s doors for shows beginning in 1983 and still had it’s lights on when we passed it last night.
my sleeping situation at ida. I didn’t bring my computer to the north carolina mountains where I stayed for a night on a quilted pew, but I have become very acquainted with this couch in the back house at IDA. It was pretty comfortable

been at Ida for a few days and it’s pretty much dream life central. my route is changing, which feels exciting. no more colorado, just straight from tennessee to chicago and back again for next weekend. things are great. there are plants and good people.


Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor

Gillian Welch

my housemate just did such a sweet version of this song. I’m pretty lucky with background soundtracks to my life.

"Power feminism is just another scam in which women get to play patriarchs and pretend that the power we seek and gain liberates us."

bell hooks (via mansplainedmarxist)

tentative travel plan: bmore to ida TN » lawrence KS » Denver/Boulder CO » Chicago IL

omg, is it terrible that all my exes that I still talk to look more attractive with every new potentially romantic interaction i’ve had in the past year? what am i doing wrong, why does the world at large suck? I miss my queer punk world. I have seen beyond it and there is nothing worthwhile.